


Days Go By

by littlechivalry



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, M/M, Magic, Spell Failure, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechivalry/pseuds/littlechivalry
Summary: Every year had it's pattern and each season served it's purpose. Jaskier had to admit that summer, autumn, and winter had their charms. But they were nothing compared to his spring.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Days Go By

**Author's Note:**

> Story title from "Days Go By" - Dirty Vegas
> 
> My first Witcher fic, inspired by a Tumblr post

Summer belonged to the roads, wandering from town to town with his lute in hand. The taverns were full and the people wanted to dance. Courting turned to wedding as the sun was high in the sky.

Autumn belonged to festivals, great and small, from village square to lord's hall. The songs were more melancholy but they still sent toes to tapping.

Winter was for study, making his way from university library to small apothecary and beyond, chasing his inspiration wherever it led.

Ah, but spring? Spring belonged to Geralt. 

"I heard some interesting rumors," Jaskier said. His companion did not react but he continued. "Seems a sorceress of our joint acquaintance is still intent on becoming a mother. May have even found a way to manage it."

Geralt said nothing.

"I will send her your regards when next I see her."

Long days passed in a one sided conversation. Jaskier did not mind his captive audience but there were times even his unending well of words ran dry. Still there was something pleasant in watching the passage of the sun across the sky with the person he cared for most in the world.

He wondered if such flowery thoughts would be met their equal if he were ever to speak them aloud but the truest sentiment of his heart remained locked behind his teeth.

When the days grew longer still and the heat of the summer crept in Jaskier took his leave.

He took a parting glance at his dearest beloved, the witchers eyes closed, face smooth in sleep. He had thought often a time of pressing a kiss to that heavy brow. But he restrained himself.

"Until next year."

There was no answer.

Summer turned into Autumn again and village fete made way to harvest festivals. Jaskier exchanged his blue ribbons for golden red ones and played on. There were familiar faces in every town and new ones too so he was never spoiled for choice when it came time to find a companion for a few congenial evenings. It never became more than that but Jaskier never left a partner unsatisfied and in fact he had escorted one of his partners to her handfasting with another of his past partners. They would be a lovely couple.

Still, though his bed was more often than not warmed by the heat of another's body and there was always a farmer or a fellow traveler to keep company with as he traveled, it wasn't the same. Jaskier had never considered himself the lonely type, and yet there was a silent emptiness around him at all times.

Winter brought him back to his quest. Village herbwomen and the nobles pet scholars had given him more information than perhaps even they knew. 

Oxenfurt was his first stop as always. There were new songs to be shared, some he had written and some he had heard from other minstrels. There were peers to catch up with and students to avoid.

His duty done Jasier retreated to the libraries. Back to books he had read and reread time and again over the last too many years. Looking for answers, for the one piece of information he had missed.

Once he drained the Oxenfurt library of all it had to offer once more he moved on to the next university, then the next. A few border lord's had surprisingly good collections and welcomed the visit of a wandering musician to brighten the long nights.

As the winter began to fade into the weak false spring Jaskier made his was to Lettenhove. It was his family's seat but not his home. He made his bows to his father and mother and uncle and the siblings and cousins he felt as though he was meeting anew every year. Their faces blended one into the next and their names as well. He would send them tokens from the road and with that promise he took his leave as he had every year before.

The warming air hurried his steps as he traveled towards Geralt. His path to their meeting place changed every year, he prided himself on making his journey as intricate and unnecessarily complicated as possible as a point of pride.

And his efforts had never failed him before.

"Hello, bard."

"Hello, Yen."

"You look old."

"You look tired."

"Motherhood agrees with me." Yen rested her hand on her abdomen where no child had ever lay.

"Does it," Jaskier said, staring into his fire. "I had heard the good news but thought it politic to wait before giving my regards."

"A barren tree may yet bear fruit."

Jaskier knew Yen was talking about her own situation but he clenched his eyes tightly. "It is good that you never gave up."

"It is," Yen said, "in my case. But not, perhaps, in every case." There was a long moment of silence and then, "Are you going to see him?"

Jaskier could not spare the breath to answer aloud. He nodded once, sharply.

When he opened his eyes again Yennefer was gone.

_There is a tale told by storytellers of a love so great it can stop death. The youths sigh and their elders shake their heads. Death is unstoppable. Implacable. It can not be delayed. It can not be bargained with. Magic could do unimaginable things but_ \-- but.

The worst moment of Jaskiers life happened in a beautiful meadow on the brightest day of spring he can remember. It only took one monster, and moment of distraction to bring it all crashing down, to blacken the sun in the sky.

Geralt did not change. It was one of his favorite and most hated things about the witcher. The world around him shifted and lurched through the passage of time but Geralt remained the same.

"I thought I might have missed you," Jaskier said, dropping his pack on the ground next to the makeshift bier. "I should have known better."

In the years since Geralt's death-not death Jaskier had developed a routine. He set up his campsite, clearing the fire pit and gathering brush and twigs to start a fire for when night fell. He then went to the small spring nearby and drew a bucket of water. As he walked back to his camp he gathered some few of the brightest blooms in his path.

Returning to Geralt he dipped a clean cloth in the water and took his time cleaning the witchers body. It wasn't a proper bath and the true passage of decay and dirt did not touch him so it was mostly just washing his face and clearing the dried leaves and flowers away that had gathered around him. 

"I am getting older, Geralt, and yet you remain the same." 

The witcher did not move, had not moved since that awful day, but there were times Jaskier could almost imagine the man's thick lips twisting in a small smile. 

Jaskier was not a magician, had never been a magician. But he knew things, he picked things up in his travels. And in that moment too many years ago, in an act of desperation, he called upon powers he did not have the right to summon and having done so had cursed himself and the man before him.

"You could have left me to it, you know. I'm a good fighter. You didn't need to jump in the way."

The scar in Jaskiers shoulder ached and he rubbed his hand against it. Sometimes he still expected to pull it back covered in blood.

_The tales speak of a love so powerful it can stop death, of the force of love so strong it can draw life itself to heel._

The meadow was always in bloom. The treeline barred all visitors. And Geralt lay in state. Forever. Unchanging. Dead - not dead.

Jaskier had cleaned the witcher's wounds. Had wrapped them, though they no longer bled. He had stayed beside Geralt for days, ignoring his own injury, his thirst, his fatigue, his fear.

Geralt never awoke. 

Jaskier built a bier, dragging logs from as far away as he could. He draped it in greenery and flowers.

He pulled Geralt - the body- and laid him upon it. 

He thought of setting it ablaze, of giving his witcher a proper send off.

But the body was warm. His chest did not rise, his eyes did not open, but he was warm and wasn't that enough?

That first summer came and Jaskier left. Forced himself to walk away though he almost turned back a thousand times. He spent the summer and the autumn and the winter in silence for the first time in his life.

He returned to the meadow in the spring, unable to stay away any longer. He feared what he would find but he could not stay away.

He found Geralt there. As he had been. His chest did not rise. His eyes did not open. But he was warm.

Dead - not dead.

  
_The stories told of a love that could not be denied._

Geralt fell and Jaskier screamed.

Geralt fell and Jaskier collapsed to the earth, pounding his fists to the earth below him, raising his weeping eyes to the sky above.

He screamed.

And time stopped. 

Geralt's eyes did not open. His chest did not rise and fall. He lay as if in purely restful sleep. Time did not touch him, nor decay.

If a thing can be done, then it stands to reason it can be undone. Time had stopped for Geralt too many years ago, and in its own way time had stopped for Jaskier as well. Years spent traveling and researching and trying to find a way to bring back his good friend and dearest love. Long springs spent in silent company, trying and testing spells and herbs and potions and prayers and weeping over the dead-not dead body of his best beloved before starting the cycle anew. Despair and hope in a vicious duet. 

"Yen is pregnant," Jaskier said, pulling his wine skin from his bag. He raised it to the twilight sky and drank to miracles.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.
> 
> I am not planning a sequel at a time but if the interest is there and inspiration hits who is to say


End file.
